Parasitic
by FutureMrsStabler
Summary: Elliot reappears back in Olivia's life under horrifying circumstances. As details come to light, she discovers just how truly terrifying the battle between sanity and reality can become.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: No characters are mine. Set in early to mid-season 13, after Benson becomes Sergeant, and then deviates from canon.**

Blood was everywhere. It covered everything. The white walls, the nightstand, the bedspread. Her pillow. It pooled on the hardwood next to the bedframe. There was even a bloody footprint.

He shook his head in a daze. Even while subconsciously knowing he was dreaming, it still froze him where he stood to see his wife lying across the floor. Her blonde hair was red and sticky, her eyes bulging. Her neck was one large gash from where her throat had been slit.

He moved past her and out into the hallway. More blood. The photo of the 7 of them at Rockaway Beach was smeared red at his eye level. He shuffled on. His body was floating.

His youngest daughter's room. On her back in bed. Facedown, blood pooled around her. Eyes wide and unseeing.

Next room. His oldest son on the floor next to the door. Throat cut. Blood trailing to the bed. His youngest son, still with toddler rails on his bed. Face slashed, his small body covered in puncture wounds.

He moved further down the hall to the top of the stairs. His oldest daughter still with her coat on, preparing to leave for home. Cold and still, her hand trailed along the blood on the floor. Reaching for his middle daughter, who had barely made it down the stairs. She lay in a crumpled heap across the bottom. Her neck broken, throat cut, blood sprayed on the floor below her.

Blood was dripping from the railing next to where he stood. He looked down to see his own hand resting there. Red squished between his fingers. He took his hand away fast, his heart racing as he brought it up toward his face.

He had cut himself somehow. That was where all the blood was coming from.

Right?

He continued looking down at himself. Blood all over his clothes, his shoes, his socks.

Then he realized he was holding something.

A bloody knife.

Elliot flung it away like it had burned him. Then he screamed. And screamed.

 _Wake up. Wake up!_


	2. Chapter 2

Olivia stepped off the elevator sipping her coffee. It was the first day in two weeks she'd actually gotten to go home before midnight and not have to come back in four hours later. She had never been so relieved to wrap up a case.

Not to mention the secret thrill that she felt knowing that she had wrapped it up while in charge. She knew she was good at her job but every collar she made now as acting CO helped her confidence. It was still hard to think of herself in her new position.

She noticed the not-so-subtle staring the moment she walked into the squad room. When she passed Rollins desk, the detective was trying not to be caught giving her a grave expression. Olivia shot her a quizzical look as she passed but didn't stop.

She was surprised for a split second to see Fin inside the office. He wore a grim expression on his face. She groaned, sliding her jacket from her arm and hanging it up.

"Please, don't tell me there's a problem with the Anderson case," she said dryly, referring to the case they'd just wrapped. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I was just getting used to the idea of sleeping."

He didn't smile back.

"I take it no one has talked to you," he said.

He sounded deadly serious. More serious than she thought she'd ever heard in the eleven years they'd worked together.

"About what?" she replied. Her tone sobered when she saw his expression of dread and she thought again about the stares she'd gotten coming in. "Did we get a new case?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked over and shut the office door. A knot formed in her stomach.

He turned to face her again. "You should sit down, Olivia."

"Just tell me what's going on," she demanded.

He took a deep breath. "I got a call last night from a detective named Brown, from Queens Homicide," he said. "He told me he had just taken a murder suspect into custody and that the name came up in the system in connection with us."

Her brow furrowed. "Who is it?"

He swallowed. "Elliot."

Her face went white. "What?" she said.

Fin watched Olivia struggle to compose herself. He knew what she was feeling on some level as he had also been shocked when he saw the paper. But on another level...there was no way he could feel like she did because he hadn't had a bond with Elliot like she had.

He hated to tell her more but knew he had to. "It gets worse," he said.

She mentally shook herself. Her brain was going in a million different directions.

"The crime scene was Elliot's address," he said gravely. "Kathy Stabler and all 5 kids were murdered."

She felt her guts churning. The thought that came to her mind was horrifying but she prayed it wasn't true.

"Why do they think he did it?" she asked.

Fin swallowed. "Because he told them he did."


	3. Chapter 3

She breathed out heavily and rubbed her forehead. Suddenly she had a migraine. She rolled her neck and massaged it with one hand.

"Shut the door on your way out please," she said, dismissing him. "I'm going to need a minute."

Fin nodded. "No problem." He stood up and walked toward the door. Then he turned back. "I'll make sure no one does any talking about this in the squad room."

She looked at him gratefully. He said something else as he left and shut the door. But she didn't hear him. She was already dialing Queens Homicide.

"This is Sergeant Olivia Benson from the 1-6," she said when the desk officer picked up. "I need a favor."

* * *

 _Queens Homicide Unit Squad Room_

He was sitting inside a room that looked identical to all of the others he had been in during his years on the force. He didn't have to look at the window to know that they were watching him from the other side.

Elliot sat ramrod straight in the chair. His hands were clenched in his lap.

He didn't want to blink. He didn't want to breathe.

Just in case.

He was concentrating hard. So hard that the door opening made him jump.

 _Strike one_.

"How are you doing, Mr. Stabler?"

One of the detectives, a young blond man named Sullivan, was trying to make him feel chummy. He kept asking if Elliot was alright, if he was thirsty, if he needed anything. He'd asked at least three times since being here.

Just like all of the other times, Elliot said nothing.

Sullivan looked at him, trying to gauge his reactions. His partner, Detective Justin Brown, poked his head in.

"Give me a minute, Mike," he said to Sullivan. "I'll be right back."

"No problem," the other detective said easily. "We'll just chat until you get in here. Won't we, Mr. Stabler?"

No response. Sullivan tightened his jaw and threw a look at his partner before Brown closed the door.

* * *

Olivia stood impatiently near the entrance to the squad room. The lead detective on the case had barely spared her a glance before telling her to "hold on a minute" and disappearing.

She scanned the room. The holding cell at the corner of the room had three people in it, but none of them looked like Elliot.

Her heart sank. Most likely, he was in an interrogation room right now. Being treated like a scumbag perp.

She clenched her fists.

 _If this douche bag isn't back here in the next thirty seconds…_

"Sergeant Benson."

Detective Brown was walking toward her. He gestured to his desk.

"Why don't you have a seat?" he offered.

She stood where she was and looked at him fiercely. "Why don't you tell me what the hell you're doing?"

His face immediately soured. She felt a pang of regret. She hadn't intended to be so harsh. But the feeling went away quickly.

"You know," Brown said coldly. "I don't have to tell you a damn thing. You have no business with this case."

She struggled to keep her temper in control.

"The person you have in custody is my business," she said hotly. "He was my partner for the last 12 years and he's a former **cop**. What happened to professional courtesy?"

Detective Brown scoffed and she wanted to punch him.

"We aren't SVU," he said snidely. "We don't hold anyone's hand and we don't give professional courtesy to murderers."

"Can you at least give me some details about what happened?" she asked.

He looked like he was considering his options. Again, she had to fight to control her tongue. Finally, he conceded.

"We got the call at around 1 am this morning," he said. "A neighbor said she had heard screaming inside the house next door. We get there, check the perimeter, and find nothing."

He paused. She kept her eyes locked on his, willing him to keep going.

"But something just…didn't feel right," he went on. "We knocked and no one answered. So we announced our presence and waited…nothing. We decided to break through the door."

His voice faltered.

Her heart began to race.

"We didn't see anyone downstairs," he said. "We discovered two young women when we went up the stairs. Covered in blood, throats cut." He cleared his throat. "One of them…one of them was reaching for the other."

Olivia swallowed hard. "And the others?"

Brown blew out a breath. "Another young girl was in her bed, a young man in his." His voice suddenly wavered. "A tod-a toddler in a smaller bed in the same room as the other boy. All of them also had their throats cut. The last victim, a woman, was found in the master bedroom. Slit throat."

She tried to let wash over her. She couldn't feel anything yet. Not yet.

"Where was Elliot?" she asked.

"Standing on the other end of the master bedroom holding a bloody knife," Brown said. "He was drenched in blood."

Olivia's heart raced again. "Did anyone try to find out if he was hurt?"

Brown looked at her like she was insane. "We were a bit more concerned about dispatching the weapon he was pointing at us," he said dryly. "He kept saying he killed them. He said it at least three times while we were taking him into custody."

"What else did he say?" she asked.

Brown shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. "He won't answer questions and he won't talk to anyone. He hasn't said one word since we've had him in custody."

She was about to ask something else when a guttural yell suddenly echoed from a room near the back of the squad. Detective Brown's head whipped back toward it. He hurried in that direction.

Olivia instinctively followed.

* * *

"So," Detective Sullivan said, once his partner had left the room. "How come you haven't said anything, huh? You got too much bottled up inside?"

He eyed the man sitting silent in front of him. His expression became disgusted.

"That's alright," he went on. He approached Elliot's side, holding the crime scene photos in his hand. "Maybe you're tired of talking. That it? Did you say all you needed to say to your family before you did this?"

He flung the photos down onto the table. "Go ahead," he went on edgily, pushing the photos up closer to Elliot. "Take a good look! Look at it your handiwork!"

Elliot struggled but couldn't stop it. He looked down at the photos in front of him.

Seeing the images broke him inside.

* * *

Olivia pushed right past the officer at the doorway of the observation area and strode up to the two way mirror in time to see Elliot crumbled against the table inside. A detective was pushing pictures toward him. His face was in his hands and he was wailing.

Having not seen him for the better part of a year, the sight both terrified and infuriated her.

"Stop!" she snapped, banging her hand against the window. "What the hell's wrong with you people?"

Detective Sullivan looked up in surprise at the noise. She headed straight for the door of the interrogation room and was reaching for the knob before being blocked by Detective Brown.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily.

"Get out of my way," she demanded, intended to go right around him. "Your people better leave him alone. I swear to God if-"

"Excuse me, **Sergeant** ," Brown said coldly. He had a firm hold on her arm. "I shouldn't have to remind you, but have no jurisdiction here and you aren't a lawyer. So don't even try walking through that door unless you want to have the Chief of Detectives on your ass in the next twenty seconds."

She stopped short and looked at him in frustration. But she didn't move further.

The door opened. Detective Sullivan strode out looking pissed off.

"What's going on here?" he asked, looking at his partner. Then he saw Olivia. "Who the hell are you?"

"Sergeant Benson, SVU," Brown said shortly. "Guy in there was her old partner."

"Not anymore, he isn't," Sullivan said rudely. "Now he's a murderer. He confessed."

Olivia's temper flared and she went at the other detective. "When?" she demanded. "When did he confess anything?"

She kept looking back inside the interrogation room. Elliot was struggling to get his breath back, hunched over the chair facing away from the photos on the table. He looked desperate, anguished, and horrified all at once and it made his face nearly unrecognizable.

"Look, I think I've given you more than enough liberty here," Detective Brown said. "We're not finished with this suspect. He's going into lockup. If you need something else, talk to the prosecutor." His face became stony. "Otherwise, I'd appreciate if you let us do our job now, Sergeant."

Her face was hot with anger. But she knew there was nothing she could do there.

She didn't think she could stomach seeing Elliot being put into the cage. She turned without another word and hurried out of the squad room.

She got on the elevator in a daze, trying to figure out what to do next and who to call. Her phone kept vibrating but she didn't reach for it.

She only knew one thing for certain. She had to talk to Elliot.


	4. Chapter 4

Hours had passed. Or maybe days. He couldn't tell.

From where he sat against the bars one corner, Elliot lifted his head from his hands.

A handful of others were in the cell with him. None of them paid him any attention. Outside the cage, the Homicide Unit bustled on like a surreal dream. Officers, some he had worked with and associated with for years, didn't spare him a glance.

His hands shook as he lowered his head again.

 _They're dead. They're dead._

Tears leaked from his eyes. He didn't want to see the images again. But they came anyway.

His wife, the woman he loved and adored to the moon and back. His children, his precious babies. Their bloody, mangled bodies and lifeless eyes.

He had pinched his flesh so many times trying to convince himself it was all a dream that parts of his arms were purple. He dug his nails into his neck before he could stop himself.

 _Help me. Someone help me._

"Let's go."

He jumped at the voice suddenly beside him and turned to see a young officer holding handcuffs. He said nothing, turning around and allowing himself to be restrained. The officer led him out of the cell.

He didn't look at anyone as he was escorted out of the room.

* * *

Something was bugging Olivia. She was trying not to let it show, but they could all see it. Ever since she had returned from wherever she had been that morning, the Sergeant was on edge. She was snapping at them, something she rarely ever did, and over mundane things.

The detectives tried not to let it get to them. But around mid-afternoon, when she began heatedly berating Rollins for writing sloppily on the case board, Amaro decided to intervene.

"Olivia," he said, stepping over so that he was subtly between the two women. Rollins looked ready to scratch the Sergeant's face off and Benson didn't seem to notice. "Hey….can I talk to you for a second?"

Olivia seemed startled by his question. She shrugged one shoulder by way of acknowledgment and then marched back to her office.

Amanda looked at him incredulously, but Munch and Fin just continued talking about their case like he hadn't even interrupted. Nick followed after Olivia.

Olivia went to her desk and began rooting through a side drawer. Her thoughts were scattered.

 _Who is the crime scene tech in Queens? I've got to get a copy of those notes._

 _Will they take Elliot to arraignment today or make him stay in Central Booking?_

 _Maybe I should call Cragen._

 _Talk to John. See if he'll step in so you can go back to the Homicide Unit before dark._

The sound of the door closing brought her out of her head. She looked up and saw Nick looking at her with concern.

She groaned inwardly, knowing what he was about to say.

"Is everything ok, Liv?" he asked. He extended his hand invitingly. "You know, you can talk to me. I might be able to help."

She appreciated Nick's worry about her and considered him a friend. But at that moment in time, the last thing she felt like doing was discussing this.

 _Don't snap at him. It's not his fault._

She took an even breath and forced a smile. "I appreciate it, Nick," she said. "Sorry I've been in kind of a bad mood today. Everything's fine."

She could tell by his expression that he didn't believe her. But he nodded anyway.

She stopped in the doorway as they both left the office.

"John," she called out.

When Munch looked her way she inclined her head, gesturing him to come inside. She closed the door after him and dropped her façade. She didn't have to ask if he knew what was going on. Fin had undoubtedly told him, maybe even before telling her.

For the second time that day, she found herself asking for a favor.

* * *

 _Queens Central Booking Unit_

Two corrections officers had just finished passing out dinner trays to the inmates in Central Booking when screaming echoed down the hall.

"Hey!" an inmate yelled. "Get the fuck in here before this guy claws his eyes out!"

The officers looked at each other and ran toward the cell. There were five men inside. Four of them were backed against the bars gaping at Elliot.

He was crouched on the ground defensively and was digging his nails into his face. Streaks of blood were running down his cheeks. He was screaming maniacally.

One officer hurried to open the cell. They both ran inside and surrounded him.

"Calm down!" one of them ordered. The guard tried to pull his arm down. "Help me."

"Get off of me!" he yelled as the guards forced his hands away from his face. He yanked out of their grip with a strong jerk, knocking one of them off of his feet.

The second guard drew his nightstick. In a swift motion, he smashed it against the back of Elliot's head.

Elliot went down hard like a sack of bricks and didn't move. The guard he had knocked down got to his feet. He eyed the other officer and pulled his radio.

"We need a gurney in here," he said.

* * *

Olivia strode through the revolving door of the Central Booking Unit and up to the front desk. She flashed her badge at the intake officer.

"Sergeant Olivia Benson here to see a prisoner," she said, hating the words even as she said them. "Elliot Stabler."

The officer looked up his file on the computer. "He's with his lawyer," he informed her. "You're welcome to wait."

She groaned inwardly and checked her watch. She went toward the chairs but didn't sit.

The intake officer was trying not to stare. At least, she thought he was. She couldn't really tell because her glances were short as she made another round back and forth.

Nobody else was in the intake area. There was a television mounted on the wall but she didn't look at it. She estimated pacing 45 laps before she saw an older man in a plain grey suit walk past the waiting area and leave the building.

After another 10 laps, the intake officer gestured to her.

"You can go back now, Sergeant," he said.

As he unlocked the door, her heart started to race. The moment she had been anticipating had arrived and she was suddenly terrified.

She was silent as she followed the officer. Her mind was racing.

 _What am I going to say to him? What if he's not the same person he used to be? What if he doesn't want to see me?_

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly plowed into the officer's back when he stopped outside a locked room marked **INTERVIEW ROOM.** He unlocked the door and held it open.

Swallowing hard, Olivia walked inside.


End file.
